Malaysia travel

1. In Malaysia Malayan language
“You that, is necessary now also the Malayan should learn?” - mum spoke to me. Also there were rights as Malayan I all the same began to learn on the fifth year of a life here. The lie was that without Malayan here it is impossible to manage. It not so. Language of business, trade and a dialogue simple language between different ethnic groups is English. I remember as me have surprised casually heard conversations of two girls индианок. They spoke among themselves in broken English, instead of on Malayan or тамильском. The Same with Chineses. Many families speak in English of the house and it becomes a habit. In general, it is interesting that bilinguals here would not surprise anybody. Here all tell a minimum in two languages: Malayan and English. And for local Indians and Chineses is available also the third language.

2. In Malaysia Islam of extremist sense.
I often meet on the Internet of a mention that in Malaysia Moslems completely закутаных in black, and their bearded men in white attires accompany. The truth that is tourists from the Arabian countries which go here to have a rest from the heat. Malayan Moslems look approximately so (on the right and in the centre):

Scarf carrying not necessarily. As a rule, it depends on a family and education. Moslems here about 70 % and Islam - the state religion. Nevertheless, Islam laws extend only on Moslems. And the others of 30 % of citizens Malaysia professing the Buddhism, индуизм and Christianity, подчиняеются to secular laws. Nemusulmansky holidays here are marked as widely as well as Muslim. Under Christmas all is decorated by fur-trees, covered пенопластовым by snow and young women in scarfs are enthusiastically photographed with Santa Klausom under sounds “I Am Dreaming Of A White Christmas”.

3. Malaysian think out to itself “English” names of type Nicolas or Peter which it is easier to foreigners to remember, than them real names.
To begin that these names not English, but Christian. And Christians in Malaysia about 10 %. Basically, it is Catholics and Protestants. And if to ask Malaysian Chinese with a name Stephen Ong or the Indian with a name of Frensis Amaladass why it became the Christian, that very much will be surprised. Because not only he already was born the Christian, but Christian its great-grandmother was born still. Still big surprise causes that fact that malajzijtsy-Christians, really, practise religion and at times know about it more than average Protestant-Englishman more habitual to our consciousness or the Catholic-Italian.

4. Malaysia - a world’s end.
Geographically us has, of course, thrown God forbid to everyone. On the equator. Further us only New Zealand and Australia. Nevertheless. Thanks to that the country appreciably lives tourism, here it is a lot of flights in all points of the world. It gives rise to a high competition between airlines. As result - the low prices. To fly from Kuala Lumpur to Tashkent to me costs as much, how much from Tashkent to Moscow. Without saying that the best resorts of South East Asia have settled down around at 1-3 o’clock summer. It is possible to go for the weekend as on a summer residence.
5. Malaysia - a hole without communication with an external world.
Here it was supposed that time we so it is far, we will be not not reached by any mail, madly expensive will be sonorous and in general we are not necessary to anybody and there live here one natives. Telecommunications here are that that to me to call to Tashkent costs several times more cheaply, than from Tashkent to call me. To call in those countries where many call, for example, to England or India even more cheaply. As to ex-stalemates and the foreign companies here it is a lot of them for that simple reason that Malaysia is opened for foreigners as officially from a point зреняи laws, and in the name of simple inhabitants whom aggressions to foreigners and a phobia do not test. Besides, here there is no language barrier as all speak English. More precisely, on special Malaysian English.

6. In Malaysia all meal sharp.
This myth is not far from the truth. Malayan and Indian meal in the majority (though and not all) the sharp. Or прянная. That with it seems all the same sharp. Nevertheless, there is a Chinese meal which here continually it is a lot of for 30 % of the population - Chineses. I with the great pleasure ate the Chinese meal all first year here. Certainly there is also the western meal presented at all levels: from fast foods to restaurants fine-dining, specialising on different European cuisines.
7. In Malaysia all products others also are not present even a potato and some bread.
In general, the basic habitual to us fruits are and stand as cheaply, as in Tashkent: a potato, an onion, carrots, apples. The another matter that if would be desirable big variety, say, fruit it is necessary to pass on local or to become the millionaire. Bread here do not eat how at us. It basically take on sandwiches. It is on sale already cut, and on a consistence it seems any wet and soft. That too it is solved. It is necessary not to be too lazy to reach the nearest bakery and to buy hardly more expensive and not best-selling “normal” European bread.
8. In Malaysia there are seasons. “There should be any seasons” - told me acquaintances. Also were surprised, why not all Malaysian understand, when to them you speak “last spring” or “next autumn”. Theoretically here two seasons: a dry season and a season of rains. To describe them it is possible so: the dry season is when there are rains; and the season of rains is when there are many rains. For that simple reason that Malaysia is on equator, here there are no seasons in our understanding, and declines and dawn all year long have for the same time: 7.15 mornings and 7.15 evenings with small changes.
9. In Malaysia all is twice more expensive, than in Singapore.
No concept I have, this myth whence has gone, but visitors to me on a visit friends and relatives are torn to Singapore because “there all exactly twice is cheaper”. In Singapore, of course, a lot of all good. Except the prices. There all just exactly twice is more expensive, since currency. For one Singapore dollar give 2,5 malaysian ringit. That costs in Malaysia 5 ringits, in Singapore costs 5 Singapore dollars. It is not surprising that Singaporeans frequently go in frontier staff of Dzhohor behind products and gasoline.
10. Any technics in Malaysia costs literally cents.
The majority of technics, beginning from cellular telephones and finishing house cinemas, costs here more cheaply, than in Europe, but not “several times more cheaply” as some my acquaintances for some reason assume. Probably, this myth is obliged by the origin to numerous fakes it come from Malaysia. Really, there are places where it is possible to buy a suspicious origin phones and cameras for ridiculous money, having chosen the pleasant model from the big basket where all is heaped. But, to tell the truth, I know about it only by hearsay. I will not tell that similar places though are a little popular among малазийцев, the overwhelming which majority buys only the original technics. However, the love to the original for some reason does not extend on the software, music and films…

Not only are these things you shouldn’t do for kicks, but things that you should NEVER EVER have your friends do to you at a bachelor party. Those people are not your friends.

You’d think that, no matter how drunk you were, you wouldn’t agree when someone said “Hey, let’s see if we can fit this in your penis…”

Quin, G, McCarthy. G. “Self insertion of urethal foreign bodies”. Journal of Accident and Emergency Medicine, 2000 May; 17(3): 231.

Oof. Really, I’m a girl and I’m crossing my legs over this one…

So apparently, though insertion of foreign bodies into the urethra is unusual, it’s not all THAT rare. And when we say “insertion”, we’re talking about way more than the tip of the swab that you get when you’re tested for STDs (which is something that everyone should have done, btw).

This particular study is actually a description of two case studies. The main point of the paper is this: if you have something inserted far into your urethra, DO NOT PULL IT OUT. Pulling will not work. If you’re are unfortunate or stupid enough to have this happen to you, hie thee to a urologist, and hope that your erectile function (and urinary function, for that matter) will remain intact.

Case Study number 1: A 36 year old man was at a “stag party”, which I believe is a bachelor party, right? One can only hope that he was NOT the guy getting married, this would certainly disrupt some new-found conjugal bliss. Anyway, he was probably in a pretty severe state of inebriation, and his ‘friends’ thought it would be really funny to insert a length of TENNIS WIRE into his urethra. I don’t know how conscious he was at the time, but he certainly had no recollection of exactly how much had gone in. Honestly, boys these days. After reading about this, I can only conclude that ’stag parties’ involving strippers are the ones on the tame side.

So the first thing the doctors did was to try and pull it out. No dice. Upon getting a scan, it was revealed that the guy had 2-3 METERS of tennis wire coiled in his BLADDER. No wonder he was having trouble peeing. He ended up having to have bladder surgery. No reports on whether his equipment is working correctly.

Case study number 2: Another 36 year old man (what is it about 36 year old men?) walked into the urology department claiming to have trouble peeing. It turns out that he had inserted the outer plastic sheath of a cable into his penis “for kicks”. Apparently this is a form of “pathological masturbation” (the famous Kinsey of the Kinsey reports was even known for doing this), in which guys get off by inserting things into their penis. Since I imagine this hurts a great deal, one can only assume they also get off on pain. So this guy inserted a plastic sheath into his penis, and it was still sticking out (I suppose it’s good that it wasn’t all the way in there). But he had inserted so much that there was actually a knot of cable sheath up in his bladder.

Of course they didn’t know this at first, and tried to pull it out. You can imagine how well that went. Hello, surgery.

The authors conclude that, even if the object inserted is protruding out of the meatus (the head of the penis), you shouldn’t go try to pull it out. Most likely that’s not all that’s in there. Not only that, pulling doesn’t seem to work most of the time. Usually surgery is necessary. But I would say the main lesson of the paper is this: don’t insert things into your penis.

The dance of a lion executed on New Year’s Eve conjures away spirits, brings good luck and well-being. The lion in this case is a monster with a huge head with the big eyes, a mirror on a forehead and a horn.

Dance of a lion often confuse to dance of a dragon. In dance of a dragon participate to several tens persons, and a trunk of such dragon very long. And for dance of a lion two persons usually suffice: one - a head, and the second - understand. Dance usually consists of dizzy jumps and tricks performed by a lion and a gift to a lion of gifts in the form of the tangerines, traditional fruit and alcohol. And all it under deafening drumbeat.

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. In the course of the past few years, the independent media have increasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-media institutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countless journalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been my honour to belong to all those categories and now especially the last.

I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed, 2009 will be The Sunday Leader’s 15th year. Many things have changed in Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell you that the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We find ourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted by protagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whether perpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of the day. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the state seeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists, tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks ever been higher or the stakes lower.

Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am a husband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too have responsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be it the law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it is not. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows it offers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including political leaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me to take to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice. Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka, have offered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries. Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck for choice.

But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and security. It is the call of conscience.

The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say it like we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we call it by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigative articles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to the public-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves pass on this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, and never once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong or successfully prosecuted us.

The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itself sans mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of your nation, and especially its management by the people you elected to give your children a better future. Sometimes the image you see in that mirror is not a pleasant one. But while you may grumble in the privacy of your armchair, the journalists who hold the mirror up to you do so publicly and at great risk to themselves. That is our calling, and we do not shirk it.

Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that we have ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent, secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each has profound meaning. Transparent because government must be openly accountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular because in a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularism offers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberal because we recognise that all human beings are created different, and we need to accept others for what they are and not what we would like them to be. And democratic… well, if you need me to explain why that is important, you’d best stop buying this paper.

The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioningly articulating the majority view. Let’s face it, that is the way to sell newspapers. On the contrary, as our opinion pieces over the years amply demonstrate, we often voice ideas that many people find distasteful. For example, we have consistently espoused the view that while separatist terrorism must be eradicated, it is more important to address the root causes of terrorism, and urged government to view Sri Lanka’s ethnic strife in the context of history and not through the telescope of terrorism. We have also agitated against state terrorism in the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horror that Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb its own citizens. For these views we have been labelled traitors, and if this be treachery, we wear that label proudly.

Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: it does not. If we appear more critical of the government than of the opposition it is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketing argot - there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Remember that for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was in office, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposing excess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady stream of embarrassing expos‚s we published may well have served to precipitate the downfall of that government.

Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that we support the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless and bloodthirsty organisations ever to have infested the planet. There is no gainsaying that it must be eradicated. But to do so by violating the rights of Tamil citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly, is not only wrong but shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to be custodians of the dhamma is forever called into question by this savagery, much of which is unknown to the public because of censorship.

What is more, a military occupation of the country’s north and east will require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally as second-class citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imagine that you can placate them by showering “development” and “reconstruction” on them in the post-war era. The wounds of war will scar them forever, and you will also have an even more bitter and hateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to a political solution will thus become a festering wound that will yield strife for all eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because most of my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writing so plainly on the wall.

It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, while on another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite the government’s sanctimonious assurances, there was never a serious police inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and the attackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason to believe the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me.

The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda and I have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspect that I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses him by his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya when talking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodically holds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do not meet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night at President’s House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and joke about the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be in order here.

Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidential nomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in this column. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring to you throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitments to human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like a breath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourself involved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot of soul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you to return the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a great blow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are still trying to live down.

You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency. You did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You have told me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you love spending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate the machinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that that machinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do not themselves have a father.

In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usual sanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift and thorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it.

Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your younger days, in just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the name of patriotism you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridled corruption and squandered public money like no other President before you. Indeed, your conduct has been like a small child suddenly let loose in a toyshop. That analogy is perhaps inapt because no child could have caused so much blood to be spilled on this land as you have, or trampled on the rights of its citizens as you do. Although you are now so drunk with power that you cannot see it, you will come to regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of blood. It can only bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience that I go to meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could do the same. I wish.

As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall and bowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellow journalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most of them are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-off lands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency has cast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will never be allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. As anguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have no choice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guilty one is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you, and Shiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next she goes for Confession for it is not just her owns sins which she must confess, but those of her extended family that keeps you in office.

As for the readers of The Sunday Leader, what can I say but Thank You for supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stood up for those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns with the high and mighty so swollen with power that they have forgotten their roots, exposed corruption and the waste of your hard-earned tax rupees, and made sure that whatever the propaganda of the day, you were allowed to hear a contrary view. For this I - and my family - have now paid the price that I have long known I will one day have to pay. I am - and have always been - ready for that. I have done nothing to prevent this outcome: no security, no precautions. I want my murderer to know that I am not a coward like he is, hiding behind human shields while condemning thousands of innocents to death. What am I among so many? It has long been written that my life would be taken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when.

That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endure and flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that.

People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matter of time before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it is inevitable. But if we do not speak out now, there will be no one left to speak for those who cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, the disadvantaged or the persecuted. An example that has inspired me throughout my career in journalism has been that of the German theologian, Martin Niem”ller. In his youth he was an anti-Semite and an admirer of Hitler. As Nazism took hold in Germany, however, he saw Nazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews Hitler sought to extirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point of view. Niem”ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, and very nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem”ller wrote a poem that, from the first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly in my mind:

First they came for the Jews

and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists

and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists

and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me

and there was no one left to speak out for me.

If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there for you, be you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissident or disabled. Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with the courage to which you have become accustomed. Do not take that commitment for granted. Let there be no doubt that whatever sacrifices we journalists make, they are not made for our own glory or enrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve their sacrifice is another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.

My daughter has played with this small caterpillar. It has appeared that it poisonous the child all has become covered by red stains. And by sight such beautiful.